


Affinity

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, First Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 00:14:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The boys ponder meaningful stuff. Teddy bears are slain and what is up with Naomi?<br/>This story is a sequel to Prescience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Affinity

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Gayle who wanted sex and everyone else who kindly wrote and wanted to know the above details. I hope I did okay. (Also - I *swear* that I hadn't watched the 'Sleeping Beauty' episode until after I posted the story 'Prescience')

## Affinity

by Sheryl

* * *

Affinity 

"My time," he muttered ruefully as he picked up the carrier tray loaded with cups of coffee. He smiled politely at the girl behind the cash register, but she was already looking past him to the next in line. Why do I have the feeling that I'll be old and gray before my time is finished? Too damn old to enjoy the fact that it'll be someone else's time. Probably won't even recognize that it's no longer my time. I'll just continue taking orders and making coffee runs until one day I just keel over and die from old age. 

"Low man on the totem pole, Hairboy." Brown's voice and casual shrug played over in his mind. Sandburg found no comfort in Brown's reasoning, nor did he find it even the slightest bit amusing. "Hey! I had to do my time. Rafe here, he had to do his time. It's just the way it is and it's your time, that's all. It's the unspoken rule." Yeah, right. I can't believe that I actually deluded myself into thinking that obtaining a badge and a gun would raise my status level. 

"Think of it as your duty to your fellow officers." Rafe had added trying to look sincere, tucking a dollar into his shirt pocket and patting him on the shoulder - like he really sympathized - like this dollar was going to cover anything? 

"Jim? Help me out here, man." Blair had pleaded. He'd even made that 'deer in the headlights' wide-eyed look that always worked on Jim. 

"Sorry, Chief. I did my time." 

Unfortunately for Blair, his partner was suddenly too absorbed in paperwork to look up. Paperwork that will no doubt be waiting for yours truly to finish, while The Great Sentinel plays wastebasket-ball or paper-clip toss with his fellow Crime Crusaders. 

It wasn't that he minded going for coffee once in awhile, he thought with a frown as he regarded the surly crowd before him, but this every day business was getting a little old. He couldn't remember Rafe going every single day. In fact, he distinctly remembered himself making this run quite often during Rafe's "time". 

Plotting the most direct route, Blair squared his shoulders and began edging his way through the crowded coffee shop, keeping his eyes on the floor in front of him. He glanced up and saw daylight, which meant that he was almost to the door and then a tall man in a long black trench coat stepped directly into his path, bumping into him and almost causing him to lose his tray. He juggled the cups almost losing one, but the man reached out to steady it. 

"Pardon me," he said kindly and moved aside, allowing Blair to pass. 

Blair looked up with a relieved smiled. "Thanks, man." 

The man nodded and Blair had to squint his eyes in an attempt to get a better look, something about him was so familiar. He couldn't put a name to the face though, which he was usually pretty good at doing, he just knew that he knew the guy from somewhere. He glanced up again, but the man had moved ahead and his back was now to Blair and Blair was being squeezed out the door. 

* * *

"Chief? Blair? Hello, anyone in there?" Jim waved a hand in front of his face and he jumped. 

"Huh? Oh sorry, Jim. I was just thinking." 

"Uh-huh. Did it by chance have anything to do with the case we're working on?" With a bemused smile, the senior detective folded his arms across his chest and leaned back in his chair, directing all of his attention on Blair. 

"Did what?" 

"Whatever it was that you were thinking about, Chief." 

"Oh, no. It's just that I saw this guy today at the coffee shop and he looked really familiar, but I just can't seem to place him." Blair got a far away, contemplative look in his eyes. "It's really bugging me." 

"Right." Jim smirked, turning his attention back to the computer screen. "Well, this case is really bugging me, Chief and if you don't mind, I could really use your help here...you know, if you have the time." 

"Sure Jim," he said amicably. "I have the time." 

"That's swell of ya, Chief. You sure you don't mind?" Jim batted his eyelashes, giving him a look of exaggerated gratitude. 

"Fingerprints, right?" Blair asked, waving a particular finger at his partner as he walked backwards toward the door. 

"Watch it, Junior." 

Smiling, Blair turned and headed out of the bullpen. 

"Hey Chief! Find out about those police equipment supply companies while you're at it." 

* * *

Later that evening, they relaxed at home after what they considered to be a productive day. They'd made a fair amount of progress on the case they were presently working on. They had come up with three potential suspects. Three males between the age of 35 and 45, all living in the general area, all had purchased an unusual assortment of police equipment in the past six months - unusual because all three men were civilians. Two of the men had been all but ruled out and the remaining suspect Julian Danson had moved several times over the past months. They had yet to locate his current residence. 

Blair scanned the bookshelf in his old room, he thought for sure that he had put his copy of the 'The Coming Plague' back on his bookshelf...or wait...had he lent it out? And what was Jack Kerouac doing here? Okay...that must mean the plague book is on the other bookshelf. Maybe this was a sign? It seemed that every time he read that book, he ended up getting sick. Which was a ridiculous notion, he knew -- and impossible. Just coincidence, he told himself. But, twice? He had a flash of dj vu, remembering thinking this very same line of thought the last time he'd sat down to look something up in the book. Two days later he came down with the flu. Not that little twenty-four hour flu, the real flu. The wish you were dead - too sick to go to the doctor - two weeks flat on your back flu. Maybe ol' Jack was trying to tell him something? 

He glanced up again, double-checking. The stuffed bear caught his attention. He took it down from the shelf and stared at it for a several minutes and then came to a decision. This was ridiculous. He'd waited long enough. 

"Sandburg! Your show is on." Jim called, tapping on the French doors. 

He looked at the bear for another moment and then placed it back on the shelf. 

Blair walked out to the living room and the instant he heard the intro music coming from the television set, it was like a light popping on. Thierry! That was that guy's name! God, what was his last name? Blair chewed his lip, staring blankly at the TV as he tried calling to mind any details he could of Theirry. For the life of him, he could not remember the guy's last name. He did remember he spoke with an accent...a French accent. 

* * *

~1978~ 

Absently he pushed aside an annoying curl, one of many that had recently begun obstructing his line of vision now that Naomi had said it was okay for him to grow his hair longer. He watched with his head tilted to one side, his expressive blue eyes showing deep curiosity as the dark haired man with the fascinating accent kissed his mother. French kissed, Blair distinguished to himself -- although, he'd watched a lot of American guys kiss her the same way. 

"So you do not agree with the others? You do not think it is time for a more...how they say? Uhh...dramatic?...drastic? approach." The man murmured to Naomi, between kisses. 

"Theirry, darling, we need to be careful. Our goal is peace, enlightenment. We can't condone doing anything rash or violent, it goes against everything we believe in. The others are taking a big chance and we certainly don't want to invoke that kind of karma on ourselves." Naomi explained patiently. "We need to try and convince the others to be more patient." 

The Frenchman gave her a sultry smile and went back to his previous task. 

Theirry was from Paris and Blair thought that in itself was pretty cool. He'd never been to Paris, but he'd read about it, he'd seen pictures and Naomi had told him things about it. She'd spent the summer there once, while she was in high school. Blair had always remembered being intrigued by other countries and other cultures, the languages and traditions. 

He knew a lot about France, but there was one thing he was curious about and he couldn't seem to find any information on the subject. Just the fact that he couldn't find the information, naturally made him all the more curious. He couldn't help it; he had to know about this French kissing thing. Did they call it French kissing because it was invented in France? He knew that French fries weren't really invented in France, but he didn't know about French kissing. 

With a sigh, Blair turned his attention back to the television, deciding to wait until he had an opportunity to ask his mom. Theirry didn't seem very fond of him and anyway, he was pretty sure that Naomi would know the answer. But still, he'd sort of just like the 'yes or no' type of answer...maybe a little background...not too much. Yes, Naomi would be more than happy to answer, she knew all about that kind of stuff and God knows she never seemed the least bit inhibited to go into detail \-- a lot of detail -- way more detail than he ever wanted to know and he didn't need to know the mushy details, anyway. It wasn't like he was ever going to French kiss anyone. Just thinking about it was -- way, way too gross. 

"Shouldn't the boy be sleeping?" Blair shot a quick frown at the man seated next to his mother on the sofa. 

"Blair? Sweetie, it is getting pretty late. Why don't you go get your pajamas on and hop into bed?" 

"But mom, 'Starsky and Hutch' is on! You never make me go to bed this early and we don't even have school tomorrow, anyway. It's Sunday!" 

"Oh, okay sweetie, but just a little while longer." She smiled indulgently and turned back to Theirry. "Darling, he's watching 'Starsky and.... Wait a minute Mister! You're watching what? Oh Blair, please tell me you're not watching that awful show again." 

Blair rolled his eyes. Sometimes it seemed like he and his mother lived on two different planets. "You know this is my favorite show, mom," he answered without turning away from the television. His mouth quirked in a smile, he watched with total admiration as Starsky ingeniously assembled a battering ram of sorts. "Man, that is so cool." 

Naomi gaped at him in disbelief. "But Blair! It's so violent!" She just couldn't understand where this sudden fascination with violence was coming from. She glanced from her son to the television, trying to figure out when it was that her adorable, loving, sweet little son had turned into this 'Dirty Harry wannabe'. What did he see in these shows? Sure, the blond haired pig was pretty cute...well, the one with the dark, curly hair wasn't too bad either, for that matter -- but still, she was trying to raise her son to be a peaceful, caring sort of person. 

"I know Naomi, but I just like..." Blair thought hard for a moment, "I like seeing how other societal groups live." Good one, Blair. "It's really interesting." 

"Well, okay," she hesitantly conceded. She 'heard' that. Not that she wanted to, but she did. And it was important that she allow her son to make his own choices in life. "Just as long as you're not planning on growing up to be a pig," she added with a giggle, slapping Theirry's knee. A moment later, her eyes narrowed. "Blair? You're not, are you sweetie?" 

"Oh come on, mom." 

"Well, it's my job to make sure that you have the proper role models, Blair. I mean...I know that I can't tell you what to think or how to think or even what choices to make, but I still feel that it's my responsibility to sort of guide you...and at least see to it that you're raised in a positive, peaceful, loving atmosphere. You understand that, don't you sweetie?" 

Blair snorted. "Sure Naomi, I hear you." He nodded for emphasis, but most of his attention was riveted to the screen as Starsky barreled through the heavy door, while Hutch formulated mathematical equations to himself, oblivious to his partner. 

Naomi was up and moving around the apartment and a few minutes later he detected a familiar odor wafting through the air. Sage. "As soon as this show is over, it's bedtime, okay?" 

"Okay." 

"Well, I guess I shouldn't worry too much about his role models." He heard his mother say conversationally. "Unless of course he decides to cut his hair short or joins the 'Boy Scouts'. Hmm...maybe I should think about taking him to spend some time in Sedona, with Norman and Claire. Maybe for a week or two this summer. Norman would make a perfect role model." 

That was fine with him. Arizona was hot in the summer, but Norman was a pretty cool guy and he had a motorcycle that was just Blair's size. He glanced down at his brand new shoes and reached to wipe a smudge from one of the white stripes. He loved how the bright royal blue of the Adidas sneakers contrasted with the tattered cuffs of his faded jeans. 

~*~ 

~Present~ 

With a yawn and a shift of reality, Blair pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose and returned his attention to the "Starsky and Hutch" rerun presently being shown on the screen. In the back of his mind, he remembered that the next morning he'd awaken to a totally stark, empty apartment. During the night, Naomi and Theirry had packed up everything but the furniture and once again, he found himself relocating to yet another unfamiliar place. Two weeks later, they were living in Sedona and Theirry was out of the picture. 

He couldn't believe how tired he felt. He closed the book he had been planning to read and placed it on the coffee table. His brain wasn't up to processing this stuff tonight. 

~*~ 

Jim observed his partner as he stood up, stretched and went over to the table and opened the lap top computer. "I'm going to check my e-mail, again." He seated himself, stiffly in the chair and Jim could see that his expression was somewhat apprehensive, his muscles tense as he waited for the computer to come to life. Jim had almost given up on hearing from Naomi, but Blair continued to check his e-mail religiously. It was taking its toll - this waiting - and Jim could hardly bear to stand by and watch. 

For want of doing something -- anything -- to ease the tension for his Guide, Jim came up to stand behind him, placing his hands firmly on Blair's shoulders and squeezing, massaging the tight muscles. He sent a silent plea that a message from Naomi would appear in the inbox. He hated what this was doing to Blair and wondered if Naomi even thought about it. Did she even consider her son? Did she think of how worried he'd be? He had resolved long ago to hold his tongue where Naomi was concerned, but boy, what he wouldn't give to have a few minutes alone with her now. 

Blair, for some reason, worshipped the ground his mother walked on and Jim would never try to change that. In spite of her lack of motherly instincts, Jim could see what a good heart and soul the woman had and he knew that she loved Blair. On the rare occasion when she'd decide to pop in, she would be totally focused on her son the entire time. Jim had to admit that even though he may not agree with her methods, somehow she'd managed to raise a damn fine son and he gave her credit for that. But still, Naomi Sandburg was definitely one flighty bitch -- although you'd never hear him say that out loud. 

It's okay, Chief, you've got me now. We've got each other and that's all we need, baby. Naomi Sandburg could stay in Timbuktu, or wherever the hell she was, for all he cared. As long as he had Blair, the rest of the world could go screw themselves. Well, not really, but he sure seemed less inclined to get involved in other people's personal affairs \- or maybe he just felt less guilty that he didn't. He couldn't remember ever wanting to get involved with other people's personal stuff, with the exception of Blair. 

As for his family, he and Stephen were okay now and that was good, he was happy about that. His father, well, at least they were speaking to each other these days, the animosity was gone, but they still didn't really do the family thing. They weren't close. Not like he was with Blair. Blair seemed more like family than his real family. In fact, Blair was his real family, had been his real family -- and a whole lot more \-- since a few weeks after they'd met. 

And now, in the midst of everything, their relationship had suddenly \-- yet, not really so suddenly -- taken a major turn. They had been sleeping together for the past couple weeks, in Jim's bed and although they had yet to move much past the kissing stage, just having Blair Sandburg in his bed was making up for an entire lifetime of shitty Christmases and birthdays. 

It's not that Jim didn't want to move past the kissing stage, it's just that Blair was going through a rough time, he was stressed out and worn out -- not to mention more than a little distracted by the situation with his mother. When the time came for him and Blair to move forward, he wanted Blair's full attention. He'd waited this long, he could wait a little longer. Blair was worth it. 

~*~ 

"Nothing," Blair sighed shaking his head as he scrolled down the list of messages. He looked them over again before removing his glasses and tilting his head back to look up at Jim. "I can't believe she still hasn't contacted me." 

Giving Blair's shoulders a firm squeeze, Jim bent down and planted a kiss on the upturned forehead. Damn, the kid looked tired. In fact, he looked even worse than he used to after one of his infamous all night study sessions. Not for the first time since this all began, the detective found himself completely at a loss for 'the right words' and he hated feeling so helpless. He wished there was something he could say, something he could do to fix this mess for Blair. "I'm sorry, Chief, I guess we just have to keep waiting." Platitudes, God he hated them. 

Blair nodded dejectedly and shut down the computer. He sat quietly for a few moments, allowing Jim to massage his tense shoulder muscles and then scrubbed his hands over his face, let out a huge breath and again tilted his face up toward Jim. "Kiss me you fool," he said, a goofy lopsided grin spreading across his face. Jim smiled equally as goofy in reply. How could he resist? 

~*~ 

Later ~   
Jim dropped the bath towel he'd just dried himself with and used it to wipe the condensation from the bathroom floor before draping it across the hamper. Leaning forward, he studied his features in the steamy mirror. Not half bad for forty. 

He'd towed Blair up the stairs and put him to bed a couple hours ago, shortly after he'd fallen asleep in the middle of their make-out session. Not too good on the ol' ego there, Chief. Okay, in all honesty, he had to admit that he'd thought it was sort of...adorable, once the initial shock had worn off. He sighed, grinning at his reflection. Damn, he had it bad. 

Slipping his boxers on, he gave the bathroom a quick last glance to ensure everything was in order and then wandered out to the kitchen for a glass of water. He couldn't help walking past Blair's room. It was... _there_ taunting him - if it were possible for a room to taunt. Well, maybe it wasn't the actual room that taunted him; it was more the stupid teddy bear that was in the room. There it was, just sitting on the shelf, next to that weird looking Mayan whatchamacallit...gathering dust. Blair never even looked at it, as far as Jim knew. He wondered how Naomi put whatever it was inside the bear. He'd checked it out thoroughly and been unable to find a flaw. Even with sentinel eyesight, he could not tell where it had been opened and re-stitched. 

He poured himself a cold glass of water and leaned against the counter, taking a long drink. He could tell that Blair was sleeping soundly. Dead to the world. It would probably take a freight train running through the living room to wake the kid up. 

So, what would it hurt to just take a little look? Looking wasn't a crime...well, not looking at a teddy bear, anyway. He set the glass down and tried really hard to repress the guilt he was feeling and meandered his way into the spare room. And Blair thought he was good at repression? Wait a minute, why should he feel guilty? This was his house, wasn't it? 

He stood in the dark room, in front of the shelf and stared at the bear for a long time, keeping his hearing tuned into the sleeping man upstairs. No, he just couldn't. No matter how dammed insane it drove him, he was man of honor and if Blair didn't care what was inside the dammed bear then why should he? Besides, once he got it opened, he knew he could never get it put back together as perfectly as it was right now. Damn Naomi. Who'd have ever thought the woman could sew? 

A memory from long ago came to his mind. It was a few days before Christmas and he and Stephen were kneeling in front of the tree. Jim was really good at easing the tape away from the wrapping paper and oh so carefully unwrapping - just enough to be able to peek inside. Naturally, he could always hear whether or not someone was coming - which probably helped a great deal. Then after they'd snooped to their satisfaction, Jim could put it all back together nice and neatly and nobody ever knew the difference. 

He doubted that this particular talent was going to help him now. It surely didn't take a detective to figure out that opening and closing a teddy bear would be quite a bit more difficult than unwrapping and rewrapping a present. This would take a surgeon to fix and if he ever intended on unwrapping the present that was lying upstairs in his bed \-- he'd better back away now. Just back out of the room, that's the way, Ellison. He closed the door as quietly as he could and headed up the stairs feeling pretty darn proud of himself. He'd made it another day and 'Ted' was still intact. "Ted' - Jim snorted. Jesus the kid was terrible at picking names for things. Ted the bear, Larry the ape...Ted, Larry and...beautiful Curly. 

He pulled back the covers and climbed into bed next to Curly, still unable to get the bear out of his mind. He contemplated the many theories, pretty good theories if he did say so, that he had been cooking up in his head lately. 'Back up', in case the time ever came that he found himself caught holding on to a lacerated teddy bear. It shouldn't be too hard and if things went right the kid would hopefully be too intrigued with new information to be pissed off at Jim. 

And for all of the other characteristics that Blair had already documented, so-called sentinel characteristics -- none of which were too flattering if you're looking at things from Jim's point of view - the kid had a little payback coming. If he was less than honest about his own discovery of a new 'primal imperative' well, too bad. None of that other stuff was true anyway. The ridiculous territorial thing, the fear based response thing and then that absurd paranoia thing. He didn't even want to think about that one. No way was he -- Jim Ellison -- paranoid. Where would the kid even get such a stupid idea? Jesus, he hoped no one else thought that about him. 

He straightened the blankets and pulled Blair into his arms, noticing right away that he seemed a little warm. A little too warm. Propping himself up on an elbow, he looked into Blair's face, placed a hand on his forehead. 101 at least. "Chief?" He slid his hand down to Blair's cheek. "Blair?" The younger man shifted, mumbling something unintelligible and snuggled closer to his larger counterpart. Jim brushed his hand through the wild curls and reached out with his hearing. His breathing did sound a bit labored, maybe a little congested. He slumped back against his pillow in resignation. Great, just what he needed. With everything else going on, the Danson case, he did not need this. 

He felt the beginning of a headache behind his eyes and he used his free hand to massage his forehead with his fingertips. This really sucked. God, he loved Blair, he loved him more than life itself, but the man was intolerable when he even so much as got the sniffles. The upbeat and amiable Detective Sandburg transformed in to unbearable Mr. Hyde. Some guys just couldn't handle being under the weather. Jim couldn't help but wonder exactly what he had done to piss off the gods -- or whomever? Somebody up there was having a really good laugh right now, at his expense. 

Maybe he's just warm because he's under the blankets, he'll probably be fine in the morning. Jim finally dozed off, counting cases instead of sheep. There had to be a stakeout somewhere with his name on it. 

~*~ 

"I'm not sick." 

"Right." 

"I'm not taking that stuff and get your hand away from my forehead." 

"Come on, Chief. Work with me here. Take the nice medicine, it'll make you feel better." 

"I feel fine." 

"You don't look fine, you look like you're about to fall over. Open up..." 

"Who do you think you are? Mary Poppins?" 

Jim snorted. Jeez, the kid could be a pistol. "Sandburg, what are you doing?" 

"I'm putting my coat on _Detective_. We're going to be late for work, incase you haven't noticed the time." 

"Right." 

Blair 'The Rock' Sandburg, endured the drive in, endured a short briefing on the Danson case, endured an hour or so of paper work and had almost made it to lunch before Simon Banks stepped in. 

"Sandburg," the captain growled, "what are you doing here? You should be home in bed." Simon turned to Jim with a disapproving scowl. "What's the kid doing here, Jim?" 

"He works here, Sir." Jim smiled pleasantly. 

"Yeah, well, he's sick...and he's sneezing all over everything. Take him home before he infects the whole department." 

"Simon...." Blair began, but the captain put his hands on his hips and glared menacingly down at him, effectively curbing any thought of argument. 

They drove home in relative silence -- with the exception of a few sneezing and coughing fits. Jim actually managed to get Blair into bed, which only meant that the kid was apparently feeling even worse than Jim had thought. 

"You need me, I'm your partner." He weakly protested as Jim mother henned him, tucking the blankets up under his chin. 

"You're right, Chief, I do need you. I need you to get well." 

"But what about Danson?" 

"We haven't got a lead on him yet. If we do, if anything comes up, I'll give you a call. So, quit worryin'." 

"Kay. Promise?" Blair's eyelids were already drooping. 

"I promise." The Sentinel bent over, placing a kiss on the slightly fevered brow of his Guide. "Call if you need anything." 

Blair nodded, his eyes closed and Jim trotted down the stairs, trying to remember if he'd ever kissed anyone's 'fevered brow' before. Nope, he didn't think he had. He couldn't remember allowing anyone to sneeze all over his personal space before either, but he hadn't said a word to Sandburg. He smiled to himself. Yeah, he'd do just about anything for the beautiful boy upstairs, but he hadn't lost all of his sense. Grabbing the can of Lysol from under the sink, he headed back to his truck. 

* * *

Later that afternoon ~  
Blair was dreaming, floating...feeling warm and content, surrounded by white sand and ocean... And everything was so perfect...except for that noise. 

That noise was not going away, it was getting louder and dammit it sounded like a telephone. How the hell did a telephone get out here...? 

Blair sat up and reached for the phone on the night table. "Hello?" 

"Sorry, Chief. Did I wake you?" Blair could hear the amusement in his partner's tone and knew he wasn't all that sorry. 

"S'okay. What's up?" 

"Another abandoned car, about thirty miles east of Cascade, looks like the same M.O. as the others. We're going to take a little drive out there and check it out, I just wanted to let you know." 

"Do you need me?" 

"Nah. Brown and Rafe are going with me. Everything's cool." 

"Are you sure? I think I'm feeling a little better." 

"Yeah, sure you are. Get some more rest and I'll give you a call later." 

"Okay, Jim. Bye." Blair hung up the phone and relaxed into the pillow, he really felt like shit anyway. He was going to burn that book - not that he condoned the burning of books - but this was a truly evil book. 

As he was about to doze off, images of himself wearing Jim's flowered apron, holding a can of charcoal fluid and box of matches, standing over the grill watching flames shoot up from the book, were interrupted by a knock on the door. 

He ungracefully rolled out of the bed, grabbed his partner's robe and slowly descended the stairway. He didn't care if he looked like shit and he had to look better than he felt. 

Still, he ran a hand through his hair; he didn't actually want to frighten anyone. For all he knew, it could be a Girl Scout selling cookies or something and Jim would be really pissed if he found out Blair had run off his thin mint supplier. 

When he opened the door, he took a step back - caught off guard. 

"Blair? Blair Sandburg?" 

It was the man from the coffee shop. Theirry whatever his name was and Blair actually hadn't thought about him since the night before. He was more than a little surprised, now, to find the guy standing on his doorstep. "I remember you." 

The man reached inside of his coat and pulled out a wallet, flipping it open. "Theirry Budreaux." 

"C...?" The man shook his head sternly, indicating for him to be silent. C.I.A.? Oh man, he must be dreaming. Maybe he was delirious? This was...this was.... "What's going on?" 

"May I?" he gestured inside the apartment and Blair allowed him through the door. 

"Is this about my..." 

The agent put a finger to his lips, silencing him before he finished the question. "We need to talk, but not here." 

Blair nodded, looking completely puzzled. He knew this was about Naomi, but what was up with all the secrecy? Maybe this guy knew more than the feds. 

"Let me get dressed," Blair replied escorting him into the living room. It wasn't that he trusted the guy, but he was really worried about his mom and he had to take a chance if it might lead to something...some information on Naomi. "I'll be right back." 

Less than ten minutes later, Blair was dressed and ready to go. He galloped down the stairs, tying his hair back into a ponytail. All thoughts of being sick had been put out of his mind. 

They walked to the nearby bakery and Blair ordered a coffee. He needed the caffeine. He asked if Theirry wanted to order anything and the agent declined, scoffing at the pastries in the display counter. Blair had a memory of him doing the same thing, when Blair was a child. 

"So, Theirry, what's this all about?" 

Theirry folded his hands in front of him on the table and leaned closer. "I have a message to give you." 

"A message?" Blair repeated, arching an eyebrow. 

The man nodded. "From Naomi. She wanted you to know that she was all right." 

"Wait...wait a minute. I don't understand. You're with the C.I.A.? You spoke with my mother?" 

"Oui, yes." 

"Well, what does the C.I.A. have to do with my mother? Have you seen her? Where is she and what the hell is going on?" 

"Mr. Sandburg...Blair...I cannot disclose the information you want to know. I can only tell you that she is well. She does not want you to worry about her." 

"The feds say she was involved with some pretty heavy stuff. Is that all true?" 

"Again, I cannot tell you these details. I will tell you what she wanted me to tell you and that is this: She wanted you to remember when you worked together before...with Jim?" 

Blair nodded; he remembered that. How could he ever forget? 

"She wanted you to know that she is again doing that." Theirry suddenly broke into an affectionate, thoughtful smile. "She said to tell you that it is fun and exciting and not to worry, she is safe and you have to trust her." 

"You're serious aren't you?" Blair stared at him, trying to let his words sink in. He was going to kill her the next time he saw her. "Is she working with the C.I.A.?" 

"I cannot say." The agent smiled sympathetically at him. "I cannot tell you any more." 

Blair had a million questions he wanted to ask, but had the feeling he wasn't going to get any answers. "Why are you here, Theirry? My mother hasn't...I mean...I didn't realize you were back in the picture, so to speak." 

"Ah, but I have never been gone from the picture. Some day you will understand." 

Okay, now he had a million more questions. "How will I know she's okay? Are you sure she's safe? Why hasn't she called? Doesn't she know I've been worried sick?" 

* * *

Blair turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. A hot, steamy shower, just what the doctor ordered. In fact, now that he thought about it, he did feel better. He hadn't sneezed or coughed in hours. He wondered how Jim was doing with the case. Was he ever going to be surprised when Blair told him about the visitor he'd had earlier. 

Naomi was supposedly fine and he had talked with Theirry for quite awhile, which ended up helping him feel a little better about the situation. Theirry hadn't actually given him a lot of details or information. He'd just dropped a lot of hinting remarks...sort of vague clues. He still had no idea where she was, or when he'd hear from her, but he was pretty sure that Theirry was in contact with her. He'd even insinuated that he would be seeing her very soon. God, was Naomi a 'Pig'? She'd known this guy for a long time. What was their connection? 

Jim was going to have a stroke when he heard all of this. 

He dried off, dropping the towel behind the door - he'd pick it up before Jim got home. He put on some comfortable sweats and went into the kitchen to see what there was to work with for dinner. 

The phone rang. 

"Hey Chief." 

"Hey yourself." 

"You're sounding better." 

"I'm feeling much better. Wait 'til you get home. You're not going to believe what I have to tell you, man." 

"Tell me now. It's not nice to keep your Sentinel in suspense." 

"Sorry, no can do. When are you coming home?" 

Jim sighed long-sufferingly and Blair heard the phone being jostled around. "I'm kinda stuck here for awhile, Chief." 

"Why? What's going on?" 

"Well...we drove out to the abandoned car I told you about. Rafe and Brown took one car and I rode with Simon in his car. When we were on the scene, you're not going to believe this...a car goes by the same make and model as the suspect was last seen driving. I got a good look and sure enough it was Danson, the bastard. Anyway, Simon, H and Rafe were busy checking out the victim's car...she was okay, by the way. Just a little shook up. Well, like I said they were off doing whatever and I just happened to be close to Simon's car, so I got in and..." 

"Don't tell me." 

"Yeah. Simon's not very happy," Jim sighed again. "I dunno...it's not like I totaled it or anything. I mean, it can be fixed and what was I supposed to do? Just let Danson get away?" 

"Oh man. Are you okay?" 

"Yeah, I'm okay. Danson's in the hospital...under guard, of course. I'll probably be a little sore in the morning, that's all." 

"Well, at least you're okay." 

"Yeah. For the moment, anyway, but I don't think Simon is quite finished with me yet. He's making me stay until I get caught up on our paperwork." Blair heard muffled sounds from the other end of the line. "No, sir. I'm not being paid to chat on the phone. Yes, sir. I know that, sir. Hanging up now, sir." 

Blair couldn't help it, he had to laugh. 

"Laugh it up, Chief. Get your jollies." 

"Oh, I plan to Jim. Just as soon as you get home. So don't be too late." 

There was a long pause, followed by a bout of coughing suitable for a nomination from the Academy. "I gotta go, Chief. I think I'm catching whatever it was that you had." 

* * *

"So let me get this straight. Naomi has been in cahoots with this C.I.A. agent ever since you were a kid?" 

"Well, he really didn't say that, but I remember him hanging around when I was a kid." 

"And all that you found in there was a note? A stupid note?" 

"Well, it wasn't stupid, Jim. But yeah, that was basically what I found." Blair played with the teddy bear, walking it up Jim's leg, up his arm and across his chest. 

"Knock it off." Jim growled, batting poor Ted and his head flopped backwards, exposing the stuffing inside. 

Blair shook his head sadly. "You pigs think violence is the answer to everything." Jim felt a huff of breath in his ear. "Maybe we ought to work on alternative ways for you to express yourself." This was punctuated by the touch of warm, moist lips on his neck. He shivered. "Now, look what you've done to this poor, defenseless teddy bear." 

Jim snorted, but remained frozen to this space and time - totally unable to pull back from the mouth that was now working along the line of his jaw. "I think Ted has a real problem there, Chief." 

Blair tossed the bear to the floor as he aggressively straddled the larger man's lap and began working his t-shirt up. "I have a bigger problem." He said between kisses. 

"Oh yeah?" It was bigger and it was pressing into Jim's abdomen and he didn't think he could wait much longer. "I think I can take care of that for you." Jim struggled a little, his muscles protesting, but managed to stand without dislodging Blair from around his waist. 

"Whoa, there big guy. You must work out." 

"Shut up, Chief." He smiled, his blue eyes twinkling in a 'for Sandburg only' smile. "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk to damn much?" 

Blair didn't respond; his mouth was busy. 

Jim made it up the stairs and deposited his armful on the bed. He stood up and pulled his t-shirt over his head. 

Blair's eyes went wide and he licked his lips, the assertiveness he had been showing moments earlier seemed to have faded. He lay there on the bed, breathing heavily and watching Jim with a look of trepidation. With shaky fingers he attempted to undo the buttons of his flannel shirt, but Jim leaned over him, moving his hands out of the way and deftly undid them himself, pushing the sides apart to expose Blair's chest. "Beautiful." 

He removed his own pants, then pulled the dark blue sweat pants down and off of Blair. "Commando, Chief?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

Blair laughed and seemed to relax a little. 

Jim's gaze traveled over the compact, well-defined form. He was still having trouble believing that finally, finally this man whom he had loved for so long was actually lying there on his bed looking like some kind of an erotic dream. 

"Jim..." he whispered uncertainly. "I've never..." 

"I know." Jim situated himself over his new lover, making sure that he didn't put too much weight on him. He knew that Blair had never been with another man. It was one of the reasons it had taken them so long to get to this point. "Don't worry, everything will be good. I promise. Just relax." 

Easier said than done, but Blair nodded and Jim ducked his head, kissing him tenderly to begin with. It didn't take long for the kisses to inflame and soon they were undulating, lost in their ecstasy, tasting and touching, hips rocking and pressing against each other. Jim slowly moved down the trembling body, kissing soft skin, taking small patches into his mouth along the way and sucking just enough to mark. 

Blair was writhing beneath him, panting, his eyes squeezed shut. Jim heard a small whimper as he licked and then sucked the tender skin next to Blair's hipbone. He looked up again at the beautiful sight - unable to get enough of Blair aroused into this sensual haze. He moved nearer to his goal and hovered -- still watching Blair, his breath teasing, causing his lover to squirm deliciously. Closing his eyes, Jim inhaled, nuzzling the soft curls -- scenting -- imprinting this man, this moment forever into his memory. He moved again, this time his mouth descending on the rigid shaft and Blair cried out. 

Blair was close; Jim knew it. He could feel the heat, the blood pumping as his erection became impossibly thicker, harder. The taste of it was driving Jim on, his own member had become painfully hard. He sucked relentlessly, allowing Blair to thrust into his mouth, loving the helpless noises he made in the throes of passion. Unable to hold out, he moved one hand down, palming his own shaft -- needing pressure, seeking his own release. 

Blair arched upwards, tossing his head back and forth and finally throwing an arm across his face as a strangled scream was emitted through clenched teeth. At the taste and feel of Blair's completion, pulsing into his throat, Jim thrust once more into his palm, colorful lights dotted his vision and he came a moment later. 

* * *

The next morning ~   
Jim and Blair sat next to each other on the edge of the large bed. Blair studied his hands as he told his partner of the second tightly folded piece of paper he'd removed from the bear. He was attempting to explain the demise of the paper along the information that it had contained, but Jim was just not 'hearing' the younger man. 

"You did what?" 

"I told you, I burned it, Jim. Along with the plague book." 

"Plague book?" 

"Never mind, it's a long story." 

"I-I can't believe you did that, Chief. How could you do that?" 

"It was really pretty simple." Blair looked up and shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't want to know." 

"What do ya mean you didn't want to know?" 

"Jim, I didn't want to know. I don't want to know. I don't need to know. I'm perfectly fine not knowing." 

"But...." 

"Look, I'm sorry. I know you don't understand, but I have all the family I need, right here. I have you and of course, Naomi...wherever she is." he smiled and shrugged a shoulder. "I just...I like my life the way it is. I'm happy with things the way they are." 

"Yeah but...aren't you even a little curious?" Jim couldn't believe this; he couldn't understand it. He would want to know. He did want to know. 

"When I was little, yeah, sure I was curious." 

"But now you're not curious." 

"Not really." 

"Okay," he conceded, raising his hands in surrender. "You don't want to know...fine." 

"I don't." 

"Fine." Jim sat there quietly for a long moment before taking a deep breath, furrowing his eyebrows and looking at Blair. "You're not even a little curious?" 

Blair chuckled, shaking his head. "You know Jim, when I was a little kid, I used to imagine my father was someone really cool, you know? Someone exciting, or famous, with a great personality." Jim nodded, remaining silent so Blair could continue. "Well, I had this dream..." Blair hesitated, looking uncomfortable and began playing with the blanket edging, "that one day he'd find me, you know? And my whole life would change when that happened. Everyone would see that this was my father...that I was this person's son and all the kids at school would be jealous because I had such a great dad and suddenly everyone would see me in a whole new light and life would be perfect, we'd all live happily ever after and all that...you know?" Blair looked up, meeting his lover's gaze. 

"But when I got older, I realized that...well, for all I knew...my father could be in prison, he could be a mobster or a child molester or some psycho killer or maybe even...maybe even a lawyer, Jim! Did you ever think about that?" Blair shuddered dramatically and Jim smiled, pulling him closer. 

"He could be a D.A." Jim taunted. 

"Oh God, Jim, don't even say that." 

"Corporate Lawyer?" 

"You can be a real bastard, you know that?" 

"I try." 

"God, my life is like a fucking soap opera." 

Jim had to laugh, it was true. "Maybe your real father is Simon Banks." 

Blair scowled and then got a smirk on his face. "Naomi did follow 'The Who' around for a summer. Maybe my father is Roger Daltry." 

"Or maybe President Bush." 

"What?" Blair squawked and launched himself, tackling his partner. "Enough! Stop!" 

Laughing, the larger man allowed himself to be pinned. "Okay, Chief. I give, I give!" He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, it really felt good to see Blair laughing -- really laughing. 

Blair released Jim and sat up, his rear conveniently resting on the other man's groin. "Anyway, the point is...I don't want to know anymore. I don't need to know who he is. I'm perfectly happy not knowing. He could be that great guy, or he could be a really bad, terrible, evil person. Who ever he is...he has his own life...and I...I...have mine and.... Jesus, Jim how am I...supposed to make any sense...when you're...doing...that?" 

"I dunno Darwin," he said in a soft, husky voice while he caressed the bulge in Blair's boxers. "You figure it out." Blair's cheeks flushed, his pupils dilated and he stared down at Jim with a vacant expression. God, he loved how easily he could make the kid lose all coherent thought. Life would have been so much easier if he'd have been able to use this four years ago. 

Jim wanted to tell Blair that he did understand -- sorta. And he also wanted to tell Blair that he loved him more than ever, more than anything, that he was all the family Jim would ever need -- but those beautiful lips were brushing over his and Blair's tongue was pressing against his mouth, doing maddening things to his brain and his ability of speech. He pulled Blair down so that he was lying on top of him and wrapped him in a tight embrace. He was never letting go. 


End file.
